


Like Ooh-Ahh

by Trotter



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Seokmin is Dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotter/pseuds/Trotter
Summary: Seokmin's five-year streak of avoiding every sport known by mankind is broken when he joins Soonyoung's volleyball club. It's either the best or the worst decision he's ever made.





	Like Ooh-Ahh

On Seokmin’s third day in high school, he gets recruited by the volleyball club.

“I’m more of a singer type,” he tells the tiny, pixie-like boy that pressed a flyer to him.

“There’s music in volleyball,” the boy insists, pressing harder. “The squeak of shoes. The thunk of the ball hitting your palm. The _siren song_ of team play.”

Because he doesn’t want to start off his high school career by getting in a wrestling match with a senior, Seokmin accepts the flyer and stuffs it into his pocket. He tries to make his way past and finds the boy blocking his way, _again._

“I have to get to homeroom,” Seokmin says.

“Read it,” the boy demands, arms crossed. “Unless you’re scared,” he jeers.

“Of course I’m not scared of _words_ , what kind of insult is that,” Seokmin says. He opens the paper and reads, “Why does it say _I want to join the Volleyball Club?”_

The boy pumps a fist. “YEAH! Kwannie, I got one!” He grabs Seokmin by the wrist and ushers him down the hall, _opposite_ the direction Seokmin was heading.

Seokmin has never been this thoroughly confused in his whole life.

“What—” he’s saying, blinking, when they’re joined by another, equally short and chubby-cheeked boy, this one with fluffy dyed yellow hair. The original black-haired one presents Seokmin to the new one like a prize. “I got one!”

“Really? You’re telling me our super-sneaky recruitment plan worked? Hyung, you’re the best!” the blonde one turns sparkling eyes on Seokmin. “Hello, new recruit! Welcome to the Volleyball Club! I’m your captain, Boo Seungkwan!”

“And I’m your president, Kwon Soonyoung!” Seokmin’s attacker says.

“Can you do that? Have a captain _and_ a president?” Seokmin shakes his head. “More importantly, I didn’t say I’d join your club.”

“But you did!” Soonyoung cackles. “You said it, you said _I want to join the Volleyball Club._ I was there. There were _witnesses.”_

“You can just _do that?”_ Seokmin says, flabbergasted. “Then why aren’t more clubs recruiting this way?”

The duo exchange looks. “No one thought of it,” Soonyoung brags, finally. “It just goes to show that volleyball players really are different.”

“But I don’t know anything about volleyball,” Seokmin says.

Seungkwan’s eyes glint. “All the better,” he says. “If you did, you’d have to unlearn everything you knew. We’re going to build you from the ground up, um, what was it—”

“Lee Seokmin,” Seokmin says, feeling a deep sense of foreboding. “First year.”

 

(It isn’t until the end of their first practice match as an official team that Seokmin asks why he was targeted for Soonyoung’s scam.

Soonyoung stuffs his mouth full of chips. “Because you looked like kind of an airhead,” he says, crunching. After Seokmin has squawked his outrage and sat on him, he admits, grinning up at Seokmin: “And I liked how you smiled.”)

 

“Is there anyone in your class that looks like they play volleyball?” Seungkwan asks, furiously skimming through class registers. Next to him, Soonyoung is practicing their team cheer, but they both look up hopefully when Seungkwan asks, and then wilt back when Seokmin shakes his head.

It’s the lunch hour and Seungkwan and Soonyoung had dragged Seokmin away from his tentative friends from his class to sit with them. _Volleyball team meeting,_ they’d called it. So far they’re the only ones there.

Seokmin says, “Where are the other members?”

Soonyoung takes a big bite of sandwich. “They don’t exist. Yet. That’s what we’re working on.”

“I don’t suppose you have any middle school friends here that have a burning passion to be on a sports team, do you?”

Seokmin shakes his head again. “Everyone in my middle school went to a different high school.”

At this, Soonyoung leans back in his chair and blinks like a lazy cat, contemplating him. Seokmin keeps smiling pleasantly, though the back of his neck gets kind of warm, in a nice, buzzing way.

“And why didn’t you go with them, Seokmin-ah?”

“Just ‘cause. Hey, Hoshi-hyung,” Soonyoung had already told him about his nickname in middle school, “how come we don’t have more members?”

“Because we just started this club last year,” Soonyoung says. “Me and Seungkwannie have been planning to play volleyball together in high school forever. I started the club as soon as I got in. We didn’t actually play any matches, though. Or practice. Or do anything, really.”

“Whoa,” Seokmin says. “How long have you known each other?”

“Since we were in our diapers,” Soonyoung says proudly. “Our families are neighbors. Womb to tomb.”

“Wow, I’m jealous.”

“There’s a lot of potential here,” Seungkwan says, sticking his head up without warning. “Not volleyball players exactly, but a lot of athletes. We could really train them up.”

Soonyoung’s expression darkens. “Only if they haven’t joined the basketball cub already.”

They look at him, thrilled by this twist. Soonyoung heaves a sigh. “It’s not that the kids here hate volleyball. We don’t even get stragglers wanting to try out a new sport, because _everyone_ joins the Basketball Club instead.”

“But why, hyung?”

Just as Soonyoung says, “Good PR,” like they were waiting for a cue, the basketball team enters the cafeteria.

Seokmin knows they’re basketball players because of three things: one, the sheer _amount_ of them—about twenty players file in in twos and threes and the cafeteria seems to _shrink_ under this onslaught of sporty-looking people chattering and filling up the room. Two, more than one of them has a ball in a net slung over their shoulders, and they twirl them as they talk. And last, at the head of the group is nationally-ranked basketball prodigy Choi Seungcheol, who is _famous._ Seokmin’s seen that face on his TV more than once. Which, wow.

“What is _he_ doing here,” Seokmin hisses, tugging on Seungkwan’s sleeve urgently.

“I don’t know, I’m as new as you are,” Seungkwan hisses back. “Maybe because he goes here?” But that seems implausible. “Go and ask.”

“ _You_ go and ask,” Seokmin says. “And ask for his autograph too.”

In the end there’s no need to _go_ anywhere: nationally-ranked basketball prodigy Choi Seungcheol comes to _them,_ having shrugged off his posse minus a few. Seokmin sees them milling in the background, noisily joining tables together and deciding what to eat. They all look pretty normal, in contrast with, for an example, the six people who are now standing at their table.

“Hoshi-yah,” says Choi Seungcheol, and wow, he even _sounds_ like a celebrity. “You booked the gym for this afternoon?”

Seokmin has watched enough American movies to know a shakedown when he sees one. He watches raptly as Soonyoung lounges back in his chair and grins up at the basketball players. “Yup. Anything wrong, Coups-hyung?”

“Well yeah,” Choi Seungcheol says, and an _extremely_ pretty boy who’s standing next to him adds, “We have basketball practice in the gym today.” Then he says to Seokmin, “Close your mouth, you look like an idiot.”

Seokmin flushes bright red. “Sorry.”

The very pretty boy –seriously, how is he even real?—smiles warmly. “You really must be an idiot, to apologize for something like that.”

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says, wary. “What did I tell you? No picking on first years. Soonyoung,” he adds, turning to him with a polite smile. “Why did you book the gym? We kind of need it.”

“You guys have it every day of the week, hyung,” Soonyoung says. “The volleyball team needs it once in a while as well.”

“The volleyball team _doesn’t exist,”_ protests a short boy irritably. They’re all kind of small—nothing like the six-foot hulking pounds of muscle Seokmin expects from all people who play sports—but he’s the littlest high schooler Seokmin has ever seen. Maybe it’s his cute face that makes him seem that much smaller.

“Does so,” Soonyoung says. “Seokmin, Seungkwan, who are we?”

“The volleyball team,” they chorus dutifully.

The small cute one rolls his eyes. “You got two minions. Good for you. Last I checked, you can’t play volleyball with three members.”

“You need six,” offers Seokmin, who Naver’d it earlier. “…at least,” he adds quietly, because the basketballers look kind of taken aback.

“He _is_ an idiot,” the startlingly pretty one says, sounding delighted. “Ditch Hoshi and join the basketball team. We don’t have enough idiots around.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Seokmin protests.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says again, sounding tireder than before. “Leave the first year alone.”

“Yeah!” says Seungkwan. “Seokminnie would never betray the volleyball team like that.”

“So you can just buzz off, Jeonghannie-hyung,” Soonyoung adds cheerfully. “And what do you mean we can’t play, Woozi-yah. Of course we’re going to find more teammates and take the school by storm. You just wait.”

Choi Seungcheol smiles, and Seokmin kind of suspects that he really is a nice guy. “Then I wish you the best, Hoshi.”

 

 After school practice reveals the extent of Seokmin’s athletic non-ability.

“How are you _so bad,”_ Soonyoung says, aghast, as Seokmin lies on the floor and wishes for death. Seungkwan looks like he might cry. “I mean. _Dude._ I’ve never seen anyone move _away_ from the ball that fast before.”

“There’s a reason,” Seokmin pants, “that Jeonghannie-hyung, not Choi Seungcheol, tried to recruit me for basketball.”

“But you _look_ so fit!” Seungkwan wails.

“Sports aren’t really my thing,” Seokmin reminds them. But he pulls himself off the floor anyway, and squares up against Soonyoung. “Okay. Let’s try again.”

Momentarily, he sees Soonyoung’s lips curl into a small smile before he turns away and announces, “No, that’s enough training for today. Let’s go through the rules, and if we have time, we can even have a practice match. You brats against me, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, captain,” says Seungkwan.

“No, you’re the captain, I’m president,” Soonyoung says. “What about Seokminnie? He can be our gopher.”

“No, I’m the chairman,” Seokmin says. Soonyoung laughs and tosses the ball at him, a little high, and Seokmin spikes it into the center of the court. It zooms straight into the water bottle Seungkwan had placed and tips it clean over.

When he lands –his shoes really do go _squeak_ on the floor like Soonyoung said, and he thinks he might just grow to love it—the two of them are sort of blinking at him like he did something extraordinary.

“Are you _sure_ you haven’t played before,” says Seungkwan.

Seokmin wonders as well. He feels cheated, a little, that he hadn’t felt this before, in all those years of lagging behind in PE. And all along there’d been a sport out there that he was just _good at._

It was probably a fluke.

 

 “It most certainly isn’t a fluke,” Soonyoung says three rallies later, grinning so wide his eyes turn into slits. He looks like a happy sweaty dumpling. “Your receives need a lot of work, but you’re a natural.”

It’s surreal. Lee Seokmin has never been a natural at anything before.

He flushes. “Thanks, hyung.”

“What are you guys up to?” Seungkwan demands. He has snacks and a water bottle in his hand. So does the foreign-looking boy following him, looking around like he’s never seen a gym before. Seeing them all peer curiously at each other, Seungkwan immediately forgets his own question and sings, “This is Vernonie from my class. I caught him sulking outside the gym.”

“I wasn’t _sulking,”_ Vernon says vehemently. He’s wearing headphones around his neck.

“Sure, sure,” says Soonyoung. He reaches out a hand and sparkles. “Hey Vernon, wanna play volleyball with us?”

“Why doesn’t _he_ get a flyer,” Seokmin grumbles.

 “Sure,” Vernon says, with an easy shrug. “Sounds fun.”

 

Seokmin meets Mingyu and Minghao the very next week, and four becomes six.

 

(Mingyu and Minghao’s Great Basketball Adventure, abbreviated: two boys from the same class and with the uninhibited potential of true geniuses both apply for positions in a nationally acknowledged basketball club. They breeze through the physical tests and end up in a court on different sides, and when Minghao steals the ball from Mingyu they get into a fight so bad that Choi Seungcheol bans them from showing up at practice ever again.

Sullenly, they regroup to mull over their options. Choi Seungcheol had left an impression, so they don’t consider sneaking back in, though they’re tempted for almost ten whole seconds. As Mingyu brings up and rejects more sports in the same breath, Minghao remembers the boy in their class with the volleyball flyers.

“ _That’s it?”_ Soonyoung would ask them, when he finds out. “Man, those flyers are no joke if they got the two of you onboard.”

“Sure,” Mingyu would say, with a sneaky sideways glance at Minghao, who blushes angrily in response. “It was the _flyers.”)_

 

With a full team, the volleyball club becomes a _thing_ more than just a passing fantasy of BooSeokSoon (all three are banned from naming the team) and high school life settles after that. Suddenly there’s all this _time_ Seokmin keeps finding, like loose change in his pockets, and it just seems logical to spend it practicing volleyball. Their coach (who looks suspiciously like one of the players from the women’s national team and keeps telling Seokmin he reminds her of her sister) teaches him how to jump serve and that’s _it,_ Seokmin _knows_ volleyball was where he was supposed to be.

“We’ve created a monster,” Seungkwan says, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye when they find Seokmin practicing receives right before they shut the gym.

Soonyoung just smiles. “Toss it over here,” he says.

They play till Seungkwan has to lock up and leave, and they play a little after that on the way home, and Soonyoung teaches him tricks to make the ball spin when he’s spiking it, how to use his fingers for more control.

“Want to stop for sweet bread?” he asks as they pass the convenience store. “Or juice. One of either, you pick.”

“Juice please~” Seokmin singsongs.

Soonyoung buys banana milk for both of them. It’s not exactly what Seokmin was expecting, but it’s cold and it’s sweet and it’s delicious, and Seokmin decides he’s a fan.

“Hyung, hyung,” he says happily. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Has the basketball team tried to bully you again?”

Soonyoung laughs. “Coups doesn’t know what that word means. I think he’s just happy I finally have a team.”

“Oh,” says Seokmin.

“Yeah, I didn’t do anything except dream up plays for this team last year. Everyone thought I was crazy, starting a new sport when our school already had basketball.”

“Oh,” says Seokmin, again, thinking about Soonyoung one year younger, yearning to play the sport he loved. Soonyoung’s a good strategist, a good player: it kind of makes Seokmin’s heart hurt to think that all of their quirky formations and unorthodox plays come from Soonyoung being lonely in his first year.

He’s really glad he joined this team.

“I thought we wouldn’t find a decent enough wing spiker so I thought I’d have to play offense,” Soonyoung says.

“Are you good at it?”

“I wasn’t anywhere near as good as you are now when I was starting, but now I’m okay,” Soonyoung says good-naturedly. “You’re really something else, Seokmin-ah. I can’t wait to show our new team off to other schools.”

“You’re really embarrassing, hyung.”

Soonyoung leans up and plants a fat kiss on his cheek before he waddles off purposefully. “I’m proud of you! Deal with it!”

His ears are glowing red.

Seokmin has to look down, because Soonyoung will _know_ if he sees how happy he makes Seokmin, and he doesn’t want him to know, not yet. When his cheeks return to normal temperature he runs to catch up with Soonyoung and says, “I’m proud to have a captain like you too,” and watches, a little awed, as Soonyoung blushes.

 

“Wow, hyung,” says Lee Chan, who popped out of the woodwork one day and made himself comfy as their freakishly good libero. “How long have you been playing?”

Seokmin wipes his forehead with his T-shirt. “Ten minutes? A little more maybe. And stop calling me hyung, we’re on the same grade.”

“No, no, I meant, how long since you started playing volleyball for the first time.”

Seokmin counts on his fingers. “About two months?”

Chan gawps at him. He’s like a cartoon character, everything is a big emotion to him. “Seriously? You’ve only played in high school? That’s unbelievable.”

“Our Seokminnie’s a prodigy,” Soonyoung says. “Tell him what you told me back then.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “I just need to figure out where to hit the ball,” he recites to Chan.

“That’s all!” Soonyoung enthuses from his side of the court. “If he knows where to send it, he can. No need to worry about power or accuracy.”

“Too bad he’s an idiot,” Minghao says, overhearing. He and Mingyu emerge from the back door of the gym, already changed into their practice gear. Mingyu seems to be having trouble with his shoes. “Hoshi-hyung, is it true we’re going to have a practice match with another school?”

Seokmin drops the ball in his hands out of surprise.

“Maybe,” Soonyoung says, looking shifty.

“ _Hyung,”_ Mingyu says.

“That’s amazing!” says Seungkwan. “How?”

“Hyung has connections, you know,” Soonyoung says, puffing up with pride. “Hyung needs to let loose sometimes.”

Seokmin laughs with the others but it comes out wobbly. He feels kind of squeamish and he doesn’t do well in practice that day, forcing Minghao to do all the work, compensating for Seokmin’s mistimed receives and clumsy spikes.

“Bad day,” Minghao says, shrugging off Seokmin’s apology. “Everyone has them.”

 _Tsundere,_ mouths Mingyu.

Seokmin fumbles through the rest of practice getting eye-rolls and encouraging pats on the back. No one, much to his confusion, gets mad at him.

“It’s because you’re thinking too much,” Soonyoung says, after everyone’s left. “It’s just a practice match.”

“I know,” Seokmin says miserably. “That’s why it’ll be _bad_ if I mess up. Hyung, you don’t know how bad I am at handling pressure. I—” he doesn’t want to burden Soonyoung with all this, but it’s like he’s sprung a leak somewhere. Soonyoung listens, his pixie-face serious and pale. “Volleyball’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. It’s stupid, but if I let everyone down--”

“Then you’ll still be the best wing spiker I could’ve asked for,” Soonyoung says.

Seokmin blinks.

“Listen,” Soonyoung says, beaming like the sun. “Volleyball is volleyball. But you’re on the team because we want you on it, and nothing’s gonna change that.”

He kisses Seokmin once, very sweetly, his lips warm and soft and dry. Seokmin's heart hammers in his ears. 

“It’s gonna be fine.”

 

Until this year, Seokmin had nothing but painful memories regarding most sports.

It started with the flower-like boy who sat next to him in elementary school. Seokmin knows he can’t reasonably hold the ten-year-old Jung Jaehyun responsible for his dislike towards sports. But Jaehyun was the start of it, and Seokmin can’t help but associate him with everything else that went wrong.

It begins with their homeroom teacher teaching them the rules of football. It sounds fun; all the kids cheer and split up into teams. Because Seokmin runs faster than anyone, he thinks he’ll be good at it.

The illusion stays right up until someone passes to him unexpectedly. His mind goes blank. He forgets what he’s supposed to do.

And Jaehyun, still somehow looking like a flower petal in the dirt, gets the ball back in possession and scores a goal without a beat of hesitation.

“Sports are all about thinking on your feet,” says one of his teachers. “People with a steady mind are good at it.”

“Seokmin-ah is already very good at singing, anyway,” says another.

In the end, that’s what stays with him the most out of the whole trauma: that because he’s a clumsy and unsure sort of person, he’s not even good enough to keep trying.

 

In an awful kind of irony, in middle school he falls in love with Jaehyun, and the feelings of inferiority become mixed with feelings of rejection and it sucks so bad. By then Jaehyun is a kind of god in their circles and they don’t really interact. Seokmin doesn’t even entertain the idea of confessing except on his worst days, as a kind of escapist fantasy. Needless to say, middle school doesn’t go well for him.

His parents don’t seem surprised when he tells them he’s gay and his sister thinks it’s cool. He doesn’t tell anyone at school, though. Despite popular belief, he’s not an idiot.  

 

“Oh,” Jung Jaehyun says, blinking doe eyes. “Lee Seokmin. I saw your name on the roster, but I thought, you know.”

Seokmin’s teammates don’t even try to hide how they’re staring. Seokmin, for his part, is just stunned Jaehyun remembers. Seungkwan steps in front of him when he doesn’t stop gawping and offers a hand to shake and a smooth, “I’m Boo Seungkwan, captain. You must be…”

He squints at the writing above the Number 10 on Jaehyun’s jersey.

“Jung Yoonoh,” says Jaehyun. “But please, call me Jaehyun. Our captain is over there.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll go say hello,” Seungkwan says, shooting a nonplussed look at Seokmin. _Why are they all so handsome,_ he mouths. “It’ll be a few minutes till the match starts. Our president is missing.”

“I thought—”

“We have a president _and_ a captain,” Chan intervenes. (When did he get here, Seokmin wonders) “No one’s sure how it works. There he is, now. He doesn’t look happy.”

Soonyoung _is_ looking hassled and tiny in his uniform. The reason for both is probably the fact that standing next to him is Choi Seungcheol. A collective gasp ripples through the gym, and Choi Seungcheol smiles. He looks like he's used to it. 

“It _is_ Kwon Hoshi,” Jaehyun breathes, when Seokmin turns to check on his reaction to Choi Seungcheol. 

“Wait. What?”

“I mean, when he came to a school without a proper volleyball club we all assumed he quit,” Jaehyun says, in the same tone Soonyoung uses to talk about salted toffee ice cream. “But that’s really him. Taeyong-hyung’s gonna be thrilled.”

Seokmin and Chan exchange startled looks.

“You guys must be really strong, if you’re the team Hoshi built,” Jaehyun says, dimpling at them. “I can’t wait to play. Hello, Hoshi-sunbaenim.”

“Hey hey. Are you from Taeyong-hyung’s team?” Soonyoung says. He bounces up to Seokmin’s side and presses his thumb to the inside of his wrist as a _hello._

They haven’t talked about how Soonyoung kissed him. They haven’t talked, but Seokmin thinks they both _know._

He shivers a little and nudges back. 

“Yes, sunbaenim. I play wing spiker,” says Jaehyun.

Soonyoung lights up. “So you’re probably the Ace. Seokminnie, were you scoping out the competition?”

“Seokmin-ah’s the Ace?” Jaehyun says, smiling at Seokmin. To Soonyoung he says, “We’re friends. We went to the same middle school.”

The hand around Seokmin’s wrist tightens.

“Oh,” says Soonyoung, neutral.

“The match will be starting soon now that hyung’s finally here, don’t you think?” Seokmin asks Chan to cover up the awkwardness. Chan nod-nods.

“I’ll tell Coach!”

“Let’s have a good game, Jaehyun-ah,” says Seokmin and gets another flash of dimples in reply. With a bow to Soonyoung, Jaehyun runs back to his team.

“I have questions,” Soonyoung says, quietly.

“Funny coincidence, so do I.” Seokmin brushes sweaty strands of hair away from Soonyoung’s forehead. “After the match?”

Soonyoung says, “After we _win_.”

 

And they _do._ For a while it’s touch-and-go, and it looks like Jaehyun’s team’s well-coordinated precision might win out, and Taeyong’s agility might crush Soonyoung’s genius. Their team is experienced and technically perfect and focused, and Seokmin’s team has none of that. But at the end of set one Mingyu becomes a different creature entirely, and he and Minghao play like they’ve been a team their whole lives. And—

“It’s weird to see Vernon paying so much attention,” Seokmin mutters to Seungkwan as they rotate positions.

“ _Right,”_ hisses Minghao, looking freaked.

They’re tied, 10-10, before Seokmin serves.

“Just look at where you want to hit,” Soonyoung says, because Soonyoung knows Seokmin better than anyone else in the world.

Seokmin thinks about Soonyoung, and Jaehyun, and all the things that separate the two, and serves.

 

They don’t end up talking, after all. Instead Soonyoung slams him against the door of the locker room and makes out with him messily, desperately, his hands hot and smooth under Seokmin’s shirt and his tongue in his mouth.

“ _Fuck,”_ Soonyoung grunts. “That was so hot.”

They don’t stop till the rest of the team slam on the door, saying it was time for goodbye.

 

After a few weeks of Coach hounding on him about his stamina, Seokmin decides, all things considered, that he might as well start cycling to school. On his first day muddling through the by-roads he comes across a familiar, enormously pretty face.

“Jeonghannie-hyung!”

Jeonghan watches with a scrunched nose as Seokmin struggles to wave and brake simultaneously. “If you hit me with that bike, I don’t have to go to practice today.”

“Hyung,” Seokmin protests.

“You’re right. If you _tell_ everyone that you hit me with that bike, I won’t even have to go to school.”

“Why are you here,” Seokmin says, deciding that changing the subject is the safest option open to him.

“I live here,” says Jeonghan.

“ _Really_? So you can walk to school?”

“I can,” Jeonghan demurs. “What about you, Seokmin-ah? I’ve never seen you around these parts before.”

“I started cycling to school today,” Seokmin says. “Hoshi-hyung told me my stamina sucked. So did Coach.”

Jeonghan’s lips curl prettily. “Do you know what would _really_ help improve your stamina.”

“No, what?”

In response, Jeonghan clambers on to the back of the bike, holding his bag tight and grinning huge when Seokmin raises his eyebrows at him. “Thanks for the huge favor you’re doing for me, hyung.”

“I’m an angel,” Jeonghan replies blithely. “If I wasn’t, I’d be sending selcas to Soonyoung right now.”

Seokmin nearly crashes into a tree. “Ahaha, you’re so funny, hyung,” he says nervously. “Why would you do that?”

“Because this is pretty romantic, don’t you think? The weather’s nice, the flowers are in bloom, and here I am with his boyfriend.”

Seokmin yelps. “Who told you?”

“You did, just now,” says Jeonghan, laughing. “Wow, you’re really an idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“It’s fine, I keep telling you it’s charming.” Jeonghan’s smile softens at Seokmin’s indignation, and he drops the subject. “So what’s this Cheol is telling me about you being a volleyball prodigy?”

 “Coups-sunbaenim exaggerates too much.”

“Hmm, is that so. But I heard you won a practice match against another school?”

“It was a team effort,” Seokmin says.

“Yes, but if you don’t take credit for your contribution, other people will,” Jeonghan says. “I was at that game. Cheol’s right, you _are_ talented.”

“We’re having another match on Tuesday,” Seokmin says excitedly. “Will you come to that too, hyung?”

Jeonghan gives his sides a squeeze. “Don’t get your hopes up, Seokmin-ah,” he says lazily.

“I’ll look for you in the stands,” Seokmin promises, and the ungraceful way Jeonghan snorts into his shoulder makes him laugh.

 

 

(After the match, Jaehyun had come up to him. Instead of the usual post-match niceties, Jaehyun hugged him, sweaty and warm and tight. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Jaehyun gave _amazing_ hugs. 

“I hope you forgive me for lying to Hoshi-hyung,” he said without preamble. “We weren’t really friends in middle school, were we? I didn’t even know you went here. But I want to. Be friends, I mean. I always did. I kept waiting for you to come to _me_ , since you’re so much better at making friends than I am.”

“Oh,” said Seokmin, his entire worldview crumbling. “Oh my god.”

“But I’m glad you came to this school,” Jaehyun said. “You’re a really good volleyball player. I’m glad I got to play against you.”

Over his shoulder, Seokmin could see that his teammates had stopped tossing Soonyoung up and down like a ragdoll and set him back on the ground. Soonyoung wobbled on his feet, once, and began to scan the gym until he found Seokmin; then he smiled, wide and joyful as a summer sky.

Seokmin grinned. “I’m really glad I came here too.”)

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify, the hyung line except Hoshi play basketball and the entire dongsaeng line play volleyball. The 95-liners are third years, 96 second, and all the maknaes regardless of birth year are freshmen because I say so. 
> 
> As you may have noticed, all my sports knowledge comes from sports anime. This fic in particular is mostly based on Haikyuu!! because Dokyeom and Joshua once mentioned that a) SEVENTEEN members were interested in volleyball and b) Seokmin was good at it. Josh deserves a sidestory of his own because I couldn't work it into this one at all. Imagine hyung line are stuck in Kuroko no Basuke. Thanks for reading!


End file.
